Review: Tommy Little at Astor Theatre

Tommy Little’s I’m Not Proud at Astor Theatre
Friday, May 16, 2025

Let’s start by saying that Tommy Little’s I’m Not Proud—his one-hour show for Perth’s comedy festival—wasn’t a “journey.” That word rolled around in his mouth with all the icky charm of a string of slobber dangling from an Invisalign retainer plonked on a pub table—his metaphor, not ours.

Instead, it was a list: four semi-doable goals swept from the wreckage of the past year. And much like New Year’s resolutions hastily scribbled down and shoved in a drawer, never to see daylight again, we’re not here to spoil what Little did or didn’t tick off. But let’s just say, for all the ex-The Project presenter’s pluck, his fortune cookie might’ve read, “Better luck next year.”

What he didn’t need luck with, however, was commanding a room. The night at the Astor Theatre kicked off with a bit of crowd work. There may not have been a celebrity in the ‘studio’—as there might’ve been back in his Project days—but there was Florence (cue a “Flo on her period” joke), someone who swore their grandad owned Nando’s, and an older gent sporting a haircut that was almost a mullet, but not quite. We were on a first-name basis with them all before the show even properly began.

That was thanks to Little’s opening gambit: wrangling a fill-in-the-blanks monologue out of ChatGPT and spinning it into a chaotic, laser-lit intro—as if we’d stumbled into his favourite seedy Perth bar, Mustang.

But while the crowd stole the spotlight early on, it quickly became clear this wasn’t that kind of comedy show. No one got dragged onstage. There was no averting the comic’s gaze. And aside from a few moments where the material veered into too-vulgar-for-its-own-good territory, that restraint was one of the night’s few letdowns.

Where the show truly shone was in Little’s storytelling. Picture yourself in the corner of a pub, parked at a sticky table, laughter spilling over as your mates gave you the subtle head nod that said, ‘This guy’s alright.’ That was precisely what it felt like. Little didn’t hesitate with the punchlines, and there was no awkward waiting for laughs. He leant in and laughed with you, unlike those ‘scholarly’ jokesters who dropped a line, waited stoically for the laughter, and reset. The hour flew by. And when it ended, it felt just earnest enough to believe him when he insisted that every story, no matter how absurd, was 100% true.

Tommy Little’s one-hour comedic wonderland distilled everything you’d hope to find at Perth’s comedy festival: sharp banter, chaotic charm, and the kind of mateship that made you feel like you’d just shared a pint with the performer. And who knows—after an hour in his world, you might even have left with a newfound appreciation for half-baked resolutions, questionable haircuts, and a sudden craving for Nando’s. Better luck this year? Maybe. But on a night like that, it hardly mattered.

RACHEL FINUCANE